


In the Closet

by Persiflage



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Light Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, Massage, Misunderstandings, POV Alternating, Prompt Fic, Serena Campbell: Bisexual Extraordinaire, Trapped In A Closet, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29940234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Teacher AU: Deputy Head Serena Campbell and teacher Bernie Wolfe made good use of their time trapped in a closet.
Relationships: Serena Campbell & Sian Kors, Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	In the Closet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sanctitatem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanctitatem/gifts).



> I posted [a list of Intimacy Prompts](https://pers-books.tumblr.com/post/644786158056996864/intimancy-prompts) and invited people to pick one or two for me to write. Sanctitatem selected 7 - kissing scars and 58 - being locked in a small space.

“If anyone ever finds out about this, we’ll never live it down,” observes Bernie Wolfe with a huff.

“Worried about your reputation, Wolfe?” asks Serena Campbell, the woman with whom she’s managed to get locked in the Art department’s supply cupboard.

“Me?” Bernie says disbelievingly. “I’d think the Deputy Head would have more of a reputation to lose than me. Everyone knows how strict you are. How –” She cuts herself off before she says something impolitic. 

“How what?” Serena asks, stepping closer. There’s a glint in her eye that Bernie can’t quite process and then she finds herself pressed back against the door; she gulps, the sound loud in the quiet, dark space. “I’d have thought a former Army officer would like a strict disciplinarian. After all, you must have been used to taking orders.”

“S-Serena.” Bernie can feel every single inch of the Deputy Head’s delicious curves where they’re pressed against her body.

“Yes, Major?” Serena’s breath ghosts across Bernie’s cheek, then her lips press firmly against Bernie’s and she utters a guttural moan as she finds herself being kissed almost senseless. A firm thigh applies pressure between her legs and Bernie groans with pleasure as it hits the spot, pressing the seam of her skin tight jeans against her clit.

“Oh fuck!” she gasps softly, reverently, even.

“I think it’s time we did,” Serena murmurs against her neck. “And past time, too. We’ve been dancing around each other for months now, flirting like it’s an Olympic sport. Well, I won’t stand for it any longer. I –”

She gets no further because Bernie has grabbed her shoulders and spins them about so that it’s Serena’s back that’s pressed to the door with Bernie’s well-muscled thigh applying just the right amount of pressure between Serena’s legs as she kisses her with a fiery passion that leaves the other woman gasping for air when Bernie pulls back, then drops to her knees and eases Serena’s trousers and panties – her soaked panties, Bernie notes with considerable satisfaction – off her hips and down her legs. She dives straight in, as soon as Serena’s body is bared to her gaze, licking straight up the length of her sex before swirling her tongue around the other woman’s clit. 

Serena mewls – there's no other way to describe the sound – in pleasure as Bernie licks, sucks, and very occasionally nips, at the Deputy Head's flesh, driving her rapidly towards the brink of orgasm. Then, just as she senses that Serena is about to tip over the edge, she pulls away, sitting back on her heels and smirking at the utterly delicious sight before her: there's just enough dim light for her to be able to make out Serena’s heaving bosom above her waist and her bare flesh below it.

She continues to gaze in hungry appreciation and is rewarded by Serena’s eyes finally opening to glare down at her. “Well, Wolfe?” she demands. “What are you waiting for?”

Bernie grins. “Nothing,” she says. “Just admiring the delightful view. You look deliciously debauched from here.”

“Now listen to me, Wolfe –” Serena begins, but gets no further because Bernie dives back in again, using her long, slender, and above all, supple, fingers in addition to her mouth, and Serena is forced to clap a hand over her own mouth to stifle her shriek of pleasure as Bernie drives her hard over the cliff edge of her climax.

She gets to her feet with a stifled grunt, her back and knees objecting to the treatment she's just subjected them to.

“Alright?” she asks, her voice low and warm in the darkness as she leans in and presses butterfly kisses to Serena's jaw.

“Mmhmm,” Serena responds, apparently too blissed out for actual words.

“Good.” Bernie brushes her lips lightly over Serena’s. “Do you want to get out of here?”

That causes Serena’s eyes to snap open. “What? I thought we were locked in?”

“We are,” agrees Bernie. “I locked us in.”

“You what?” demands Serena in an incredulous tone. “You?”

“Surprise,” Bernie says, then her face falls. “You're mad at me.”

“Of course I'm mad at you!” yells Serena, clearly utterly furious. “You made me think that someone else had locked us in.”

Bernie finds herself unceremoniously shoved backwards into the shelves behind her as Serena angrily drags up her underwear and trousers. “Unlock the door,” she says imperiously.

Bernie is still struggling to extricate herself from the shelves, so she just drags the key from the pocket of her jeans and hands it over. “I'm sorry,” she whispers.

“You will be Major Wolfe.” Serena unlocks the door, throws it open, then storms away.

Bernie is more than a little relieved that the Deputy Head doesn't lock her back in the supply closet by way of punishment for her deception.

“Well, shit,” she mutters ruefully. “That could've gone better.” She rubs a hand over her face, straightens up, then makes her way back out of the Art supplies closet. She locks the door again, puts the key back in the secretary’s desk, then makes her way over to the History department to gather together her things: now that she’s so thoroughly wrecked her plans for the evening, she might as well head home, stopping off to grab a takeaway en route, and get down to dealing with the heap of marking she has to work through this weekend.

SC-BW-SC-BW-SC

Later that evening Serena Campbell is having dinner with Sîan Kors, her best friend, who is currently displaying a lamentable lack of understanding with regard to Serena’s fury at the brazen deceitfulness of Major Berenice Wolfe. 

“I don’t understand why you’re so mad,” Sîan says. “You said yourself that Wolfe, over whom you’ve been drooling ever since she joined the school, gave you a good seeing to which, to be perfectly frank darling you’ve needed for months, so what does it matter that she slightly deceived you?”

“She lied to me,” protests Serena, “and you know how much I hate my lovers lying to me.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Sîan says, patting Serena’s hand, “but it was a tiny white lie. A mild deception to give the two of you the chance to put all that undeniable sexual chemistry to good use. God knows, the two of you have been sizzling at each other since last September. I’m only surprised that it took her so long to get into your knickers.”

“Sîan!” 

“Oh darling, don’t be such a prude. You should be admiring her daring and initiative, and rewarding her for it, instead of shoving her off you like she’s some kind of sex pest.” Sîan shakes her head, then swallows the last mouthful of her Death by Chocolate desert. “God knows, if I batted for the other team, or both teams as you do, I would’ve snapped her up months ago. Oh well, I dare say that now you’ve rejected her so comprehensively she’ll find solace in someone else’s arms. Didn’t you say that NQT in the Science department, Alex was it, was sniffing after her recently?”

Serena feels a surge of anger as she recalls Bernie telling her that Alex Dawson had indeed asked her out on a date. Perhaps Bernie was, even now, dining with the young biology teacher. She puts aside her unfinished glass of Shiraz, the taste suddenly sour. “Yes,” she says in a clipped tone. “She even had one of the sixth formers proposition her today.”

“What an enterprising lot you gays are,” Sîan says with a snigger. “A sixth former? Very bold.”

Serena shudders. Bernie had told her of the conversation she’d had with young Jemima, who had gone to Bernie, one of the few openly out members of staff at Holby City Academy and come out to the Head of History and Physical Education at the end of her hockey lesson, then had the nerve to suggest that the two of them meet up somewhere quieter to talk things through. Normally, Serena knew, Bernie tended to be oblivious when she was being hit on, but in this instance she had noticed and had very firmly put Jemima in her place, sending her to see the Head of Pastoral Care for support, before seeking out Serena to let her know what had happened.

Sîan, she realises, is watching her closely, a knowing look in her eyes, and Serena sighs. 

“Fine. I might have overreacted today.”

“No might about it, darling.” She pushes back from the dining table and gets to her feet. “Thank you for a delicious meal, as ever, Serena. I wouldn’t normally run out on you so early in the evening, but I’ve a feeling you’ve got a rather urgent visit to make, don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” Serena says, hoping desperately that she’s not too late.

“Then I’ll wish you good luck and see myself out. Give me a ring tomorrow sometime and let me know how you got on. Not too early, mind.” She cackles gleefully at Serena’s blush, kisses her on both cheeks, then hooks her handbag over her arm, allowing it to slide down to the crook of her elbow.

“Thanks for listening, Sîan,” Serena says, quickly gathering up their deserts plates and wine glasses to carry out to the kitchen.

“You’re welcome, darling, always. You know that.”

Serena nods, finishes clearing the table, then sets the dishwasher going before quickly washing up their wine glasses. Once they’re dealt with, she heads upstairs, thinking that she should change out of the blue jeans and scoop neck coral sweater she’d changed into after she’d showered on returning home. However, she finds herself unsure what to wear instead, so she decides to retain the jeans and sweater, and admits to herself that she’s procrastinating because she’s scared that she’ll get to Bernie’s and either find her in Alex’s arms or else find that she’s not there at all.

“You’re being ridiculous!” she snarls at herself as she makes her way back downstairs. She puts on her shoes and is reaching for her coat when her doorbell rings and she snatches the door open, then gapes in surprise at the sight of the woman on her doorstep, armed with a bouquet of flowers and a plastic box.

“I’ve come to apologise,” Bernie says, “and to hand in my resignation.”

“You’d better come in,” Serena says, biting down on the urge to yell that Bernie’s not allowed to resign.

“Thank you. These are for you.” Bernie holds out the flowers. “I want to sincerely apologise for tricking you and trapping you in the Art supply closet with me. It was unprofessional behaviour, which I seriously regret.”

Serena fights back the urge to snarl a demand to know whether Bernie also regrets their passionate encounter. She takes the bouquet from her, then says, “You’d better come through to the kitchen while I find somewhere to put these.”

They walk down the hallway in silence, but it holds none of the usual comfort of their silences. 

Serena lays the flowers on the counter by the sink, then opens a cupboard to bring out two vases. 

“This is also for you,” Bernie says, and when Serena glances over, she sees that she’s set down the plastic box on the table. She crosses over to it and opens the box to find a decadent looking chocolate cake inside. “It’s for Monday.” Bernie whispers the words and Serena remembers, with some surprise, that it’s her birthday on Monday.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to bake me a cake.”

Bernie shrugs. “I made it yesterday evening and I didn’t want it to go to waste.”

“You could’ve just eaten it yourself.” Serena returns to the counter and fills the two vases three quarters full of water, then sets about distributing the flowers between them.

“I couldn’t do that,” Bernie says, sounding surprised. “I made it for you.” Serena sees her fishing in the pocket of the leather jacket she’s wearing. “This is my official letter of resignation. I’ll stay on until the end of term in order to avoid leaving you in the lurch, but I thought you’d want to know now so that you can start looking for a replacement.”

“No,” Serena says.

Bernie’s expression, when she looks over at the other woman, is one of befuddlement. “No?”

“No, I refuse to accept your resignation. I will tell Mr Hanssen so, too, if you insist on trying to give it to him when he gets back from the Headteachers’ Conference.”

“But –” 

“But nothing,” Serena says. “I overreacted. For which I am sincerely sorry.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Sit down, Bernie,” Serena says, and is pleased when she obeys immediately. “Drink?”

Bernie nods and Serena pours them both a glass of wine, setting Bernie’s on a coaster in front of her, before taking the seat opposite her. “Like I said, I overreacted to your –”

“Deceit.”

“Sneakiness,” Serena corrects. “My late husband, Edward, was a liar, a drunk, and a cheat. He had numerous affairs with other women and even though it’s been several years since the fatal car crash that rid me of him, his behaviour’s made me sensitive, oversensitive actually, to any hint of deceit on the part of my lovers.”

“So when I admitted that I’d lied to you about us being locked in the supply closet, you were reminded of him,” Bernie says. “Which is hardly the kind of reminder you’d want in the circumstances.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m very sorry,” Bernie says. “I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“No, well, I shouldn’t have overreacted as I did. Is your back okay?”

Bernie shrugs. “Could be worse.”

“Which I assume means it’s not good.” When Bernie winces, then nods, Serena gets to her feet. “Let me finish with these flowers, then I’ll see what I can do to help.”

Twenty minutes later, Serena’s leading Bernie upstairs to her bedroom so that she can give her a proper back massage. She feels a little nervous as she’s not had anyone in her room for over a year, not since she split up with Robbie Medcalf, a local police inspector whom she’d ditched because he was incredibly dull, and she had found that she got more pleasure out of using her vibrator than she did out of sex with him.

She tells Bernie to take off her sweater and shirt, then make herself comfortable on the bed, while she goes into the ensuite to wash her hands; when she returns she feels her mouth go dry at the sight of the expanse of Bernie’s bare back that’s presented to her. Her mouth goes even drier at the realisation that Bernie’s removed her bra, too. 

“Right then,” she says, adopting a brisk tone and hoping that her cheerfulness doesn’t sound too fake. “Let’s see if I can make you feel better.”

“Already feeling better,” Bernie responds, her voice somewhat muffled by the pillow she’s buried her face in.

“Really?” Serena asks sceptically.

Bernie nods, then lifts her head a little to look Serena in the eye. “You didn’t kick me out,” she observes. “You didn’t throw my flowers and cake at my head.” She chuckles. “You told me not to resign.” She sighs. “Which I’m very grateful about, by the way, because I love working at the Academy.”

Serena smiles, her heart full of relief that Sîan had talked her round. “I’m glad. Still, let’s see if I can make your back feel better.”

“Yes,” Bernie agrees, lowering her head again. “Please.”

She climbs up onto the bed and tries not to think too much about the position she adopts, straddling Bernie’s thighs. She grabs the bottle of massage oil she’d brought from the bathroom and pours some into her hand, then sets to work.

She tries to remain unaffected by Bernie’s moans of appreciation as she works the oil into her back, but she knows that she’s growing aroused as she works hard to relax the other woman’s muscles. The only good thing is that Bernie is unaware of how much her moans are affecting her, which is as well since she’s not sure exactly where the two of them stand. They’ve reconciled, of course, but Serena doesn’t know if that means that they’re a couple or not, and she doesn’t quite have the courage to ask.

“All done,” she says, patting Bernie’s shoulder. At which point she realises that the other woman is sound asleep. Half naked and sleeping in her bed. She carefully climbs off the bed, without Bernie so much as twitching, then, with a shake of her head, she goes back into the ensuite to wash her hands again. When she returns she covers Bernie with the duvet, aware that she’ll probably feel uncomfortable sleeping in her jeans but unwilling to try to remove them.

Serena checks the time and decides that as it’s close to 10pm, she might as well get changed into her pyjamas and read in bed. She heads downstairs, first, to lock up and turn off the lights, then returns and finds that Bernie hasn’t moved an inch. She chuckles softly, then strips out of her clothes, pulls on her pyjamas, before climbing into bed and settling down with her book.

When she catches herself nodding off over her book, she slips the bookmark back into it and sets it on the nightstand, then she rearranges her pillows, slides down under the duvet, and switches off the light. In moments she’s fast asleep alongside Bernie, who hasn’t stirred at all in the past hour or more.

SC-BW-SC-BW-SC

When Bernie wakes up, half naked and in a strange bed, she wonders what’s happened to her; it seems rather weird that her jeans are still on, but she’s naked from the waist up because she’d surely be fully naked or else naked from the waist down if she’d engaged in recklessness last night. She’s in the process of rolling onto her back when her memory of the evening returns full force: she had brought flowers and a birthday cake over to Serena’s, along with a letter of resignation, but while the cake and flowers had been accepted, the letter had not. Then she recalls Serena offering to massage her back and she understands that she must have fallen asleep while that was happening, and it appears that she’s still in Serena’s bed. With Serena, she realises after a few moments during which she can hear someone breathing softly and evenly. 

She eases herself out of the extremely comfortable bed and makes her way into the ensuite to use the facilities; she’s half wondering if she can get dressed in the dark in a strange room when the bedside light snicks on and she almost leaps into the air in surprise.

“Not running out on me, are you?” Serena asks, her voice low and husky. 

“I needed to use the bathroom,” Bernie says. 

“Then come back to bed.”

Bernie swallows, then says, “I’m just going to take my jeans off. Sleeping in them is pretty uncomfortable.”

“Do you want to borrow some pyjamas?”

She shakes her head. “I, um, well, I normally sleep naked.” She wonders if she’s imagining the gleam in Serena’s eye at her words.

“Well, by all means, Major. You’ve already slept half naked in my bed, so you might as well go the whole hog.”

Bernie suppresses a shudder of pleasure at how astonishingly sultry Serena sounds. “Thanks.” She slides out of her jeans, then after a long moment during which Serena licks her lips and Bernie feels herself flush a little at the blatant appreciation in the other woman’s eyes, she slips off the pair of grey boxers she’s wearing as well.

When Serena lifts the corner of the duvet in invitation, Bernie climbs back into bed. “You’ve got a gorgeous body,” the brunette says, then switches off the light. 

“Th-thanks,” Bernie can’t help stuttering because Serena’s just slid her ankles between Bernie’s legs. 

“No one would ever guess from how fit you are that you were blown up a few years ago.”

Bernie swallows as Serena slides an arm under her body and draws her closer. “I, um, I wasn’t sure I’d even walk again, for a time,” she says huskily, thinking of that terrifying temporary paralysis.

Serena stills in the act of wrapping her arm around Bernie. “Really?” she asks, sounding surprised.

Bernie frowns. “Yes. I, um, I thought you knew. When I was first medevacked to Britain I was temporarily paralysed. I had a crushed cervical disc in the top of my spine. That’s what the scar is on the right side of my neck. The surgeon had to go in and take the disc out, but I had an unstable fracture in the same region of my spine, and it took some time for everything to settle down again.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “I fell into the blackest depression for several months because I thought I’d never walk again, and on top of losing my commission, the job for which I’d worked so hard for so many years – well, it was almost too much. I couldn’t see any point to going on.”

“Oh love.” Serena’s voice is soft and warm as she snuggles up closer to Bernie, then presses a brief kiss to her lips. “What changed your mind?”

“My CO came to see me and said I shouldn’t throw away my years of experience, particularly of training junior officers. He encouraged me to become a civilian instructor and after exploring my options, I finally settled on teaching History and PE once I knew I’d be able to walk again.”

“Well, I’m very glad that you did.” Serena kisses her again and Bernie feels as if she’s melting into the other woman’s body, a sensation that’s intensified when Serena’s kisses trail down the side of her neck, her tongue lapping delicately at scar on the side of Bernie’s neck, before her mouth moves down and around her body to kiss down the path of the scar that runs between her breasts from where she had to have heart surgery in addition to the surgery on her spine. She shudders in surprised pleasure – no one’s ever kissed her scars before.

“Shall I stop?” Serena asks.

“Don’t you dare,” Bernie says immediately, which elicits a warm, knowing chuckle from her.

“Then I won’t,” Serena says, and continues to kiss a path down Bernie’s torso, with brief detours to nibble along her hipbones before she presses her lips lightly to Bernie’s mons. “Okay?” 

“Please,” Bernie gasps.

“Please what, Berenice?”

Bernie shudders. “Please don’t leave me hanging,” she begs, her body aching for release.

“Well, since you begged so nicely,” Serena says with another knowing chuckle. She moves down the bed and Bernie, despite anticipating the move, still startles when a warm mouth presses kisses to her upper thighs, first the right, then the left. Then Serena’s tongue laps at her clit and she groans loudly, clutching desperately at the bedding.

By the time Serena’s finished with her Bernie’s incredibly grateful that she’s lying down as she doesn’t think her legs would’ve held her up under the delicious onslaught of fingers and mouth that the other woman’s just unleashed on her. She is sure she blacked out, just for a moment, at the height of her climax. 

She manages to make her body obey her enough to grab Serena’s shoulders and squeeze them, which induces her lover to move up her body and settle beside her. They kiss, Bernie relishing the taste of herself on Serena’s face, then she slips back out of the bed to make use of the bathroom to clean herself up, before returning to slide back in beside Serena.

“Alright?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“Good.” 

They cuddle up together, Bernie spooning Serena, and she can’t help thinking that the day hasn’t been a total disaster after all. She presses a kiss to Serena’s left cheek, then settles down to sleep again with a smile of pure joy.


End file.
